


Piper and Jemma and Daisy

by delicatelyglitterywriter



Series: Girl Love/Girl Up [8]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Autism, Autism Acceptance, Autistic Jemma, Autistic Piper, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Female Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 23:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12492908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicatelyglitterywriter/pseuds/delicatelyglitterywriter
Summary: When Piper comes to Jemma in tears, she's there to offer comfort. Daisy provides the cookies.





	Piper and Jemma and Daisy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> **Content/trigger warning:** reference to ableist attitudes, forced passing, and emotional manipulation

Jemma’s pulled from her reading when there’s a knock on the door. Her roommate, Daisy, is in the kitchen, baking cookies out of boredom.

“Jemma, could you get that? I have flour all over my hands!” Daisy calls. Jemma pulls herself up, answering in the affirmative.

She opens the door to see a very upset-looking Piper.

Piper had been her best friend since she was in grade two, and was a recently self-diagnosed autistic. Jemma had self-diagnosed when she was twelve, and then gotten a professional diagnosis a year later. Jemma is now nineteen, and Piper is sixteen.

Because of her greater experience living freely as an autistic, Piper often comes to her for advice and answers.

Now she’s evidently come to Jemma for comfort.

“Piper! What’s the matter?”

Piper doesn’t manage to say anything, only shake her head and look down and away. Jemma feels a tight feeling in her gut. She feels very protective of Piper and hates whatever, or _whoever_ , made her cry.

Jemma doesn’t say anything else, only ushers her in, closes the door and takes her up to her room. Daisy says hello to Piper, and Jemma makes up a quick excuse for Piper not responding before they hurry up.

Once in her room, Jemma shuts the door, sits Piper down cross-legged on her bed (after taking her shoes off, of course), and drapes her weighted blanket around Piper. Then, she puts on her rain tape, knowing that rain is one of Piper’s favourite audio stims.

When she turns back, she sees Piper, still crying, rocking and thumping her forehead against the heels of her palms. Jemma sits down next to her and gently, yet firmly, takes Piper’s hands in her own.

“Shh, now,” she soothes, squeezing Piper’s hands as she brings them down from her forehead. “Don’t do that. You know self-harming stims aren’t healthy.”

Piper only whimpers in amongst her tears. Jemma squeezes Piper’s hands again in understanding. She then squeezes again, and again, in a steady repetitive manner, not unlike a heartbeat.

It takes quite a few minutes, but Piper eventually stops crying. When she does, she falls against Jemma, who lets go of her hands and wraps her in a hug.

“There we go,” Jemma comforts quietly. “It’s okay.”

Both of them sit together like this for another little while, with Piper breathing in rhythm with Jemma to get herself to control her breathing again. After this time, Piper pushes herself up and away from Jemma, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging herself tightly. Jemma places a hand on her back in consolation.

“So, are you ready to tell me what’s got you so upset?”

“It’s my little sister,” Piper sighs. “She...she just doesn’t get it.”

“What did she do this time?” Jemma asks.

“Well, I’ve chosen my dress for prom, and I thought it was really nice,” Piper explained. “But then when she wanted to see me in it, she began putting other items of clothing on top of it to try and ‘fix it’, and she said that it looked like a seventies dress and that people would think it’s ugly and...and…”

Piper trails off, her breath hitching. Jemma hushes her again.

“Why would you care what she thinks?” Jemma asks, after calming Piper again. “You never have before.”

“She told me she has social anxiety,” Piper says quietly, looking down. “And that’s why she cares so much about what people think of her, and me. Because, apparently, people refuse to associate with you if one of your family members is weird. And she’s mentioned before about sacrificing for me and defending me and stuff, and she’s making me feel guilty for simply dressing how I wanna dress and stuff.”

Piper ends her explanation with a shrug, and buries her mouth behind her knees. Jemma rubs her back as she thinks of what to say.

“You realise that what she’s doing isn’t really sacrifice, right? That _true_ sacrifice doesn’t have ulterior motives, and only happens to make the other person happy. Using so called ‘sacrifice’ to try to get to you do something, or not do something, isn’t really sacrifice at all. It’s altruistic, not mercantile.”

“In my head I know,” Piper mutters. “But I still feel guilty.”

Jemma hums in understanding. It’s hard to not feel guilty when a person who suffers because of you; because of who you are. She knows what it’s like to want to change, to pass, to make sure that they don’t suffer anymore, but at the same time knowing that she deserves to live life freely and openly as an autistic.

“I wish I wasn’t autistic,” Piper sighs, breaking Jemma’s train of thought. “None of this would have happened if I wasn’t.”

The knot in Jemma’s gut tightens, and she swallows hard. She knows that feeling all too well, and wishes that Piper never had to feel that way; that Piper didn’t feel that way right now.

“I know,” Jemma murmurs. “But listen to me now. There are some things you can change about yourself, and some things you can’t. You can change how you handle upset people, you can change how stubborn you are. Things like that, you can change with a lot of hard work and determination, to grow and become a better person

“But you can’t change the fact that you are autistic. Sure, you can hide your autistic traits, but they will always be a part of you. You can’t change how your brain functions, or how it processes information. You can’t change any of it.

“None of this is your fault, Piper. _She_ is in the wrong, asking you to pass when you don’t want to.”

“What has me wanting a dress she doesn’t like have to do with me passing?” Piper mutters, although it’s a half-growl. Jemma readjusts the blanket that’s falling off to try and calm her down.

“Well, she wants to ‘fix’ the dress so that both you and her can be accepted by allistic peers, correct?” Jemma asks slowly. Piper considers for a moment and then nods as slowly as Jemma spoke. “Passing, by definition, is appearing more neurotypical, and that includes beauty standards, and thus clothing choices. By altering the dress to be accepted by allistic, particularly neurotypical peers, your sister is asking you to allow her make you appear more neurotypical, and, by definition, pass.”

Piper doesn’t answer at all, but Jemma can tell she understands and agrees by the slight slump of her shoulders. Piper’s shoulders always slump when she realises a negative truth. Jemma takes this as her cue to say more to comfort her friend.

“I know how you feel Piper,” she says softly. “There have been plenty of times in my life where people have tried to manipulate me into passing when I didn’t want to. And in those times, I also have thought that if I wasn’t autistic, it never would have happened. And you know what? That’s both true and false.”

Her statement catches Piper’s attention, and Piper’s head turns to focus on her more intently.

“It’s true,” Jemma continues. “That it wouldn’t have happened, but the reason it’s true is because if I wasn’t autistic, it wouldn’t have been _me_ there at all. A non-autistic version of me simply doesn’t exist, and someone else would have been in that situation.”

Piper’s mouth opens a bit in realisation and she rests her head on her arms, which she had brought up to rest on top of her knees.

“In these situations, I often evaluate that, despite these fights, is the person I am fighting with glad that it’s me here instead of someone else? Most of the time, the answer is yes. But sometimes, the answer is no. The answer is that they’d rather it was someone else. Those are really hard times.”

Piper nods slightly, her eyes dropping away from Jemma’s face. She looked like she might cry again. Jemma slowed her hand to a stop, and instead pressed it into Piper’s back, moving her fingers up and down in a small massaging motion.

Jemma’s breath catches just as she’s about to go on, and so she takes a deep breath to force her emotions back before speaking. Now is about Piper, not her.

“And it is one of the hardest things to think, and to eventually realise that those people aren’t worth having in your life. It’s hard because they’re often people you care for deeply. And it’s hard to let go of those people. But in the end, once you do, you realise it’s for the best, because the only person you need to be happy that it’s you there, is you.

“And believe me, Piper, it took me such a long time to come to that realisation, and even longer to accept it. I had to work through a tonne of crap to get there, but in the end of the day, I’m glad it’s me. I’m glad that I’m autistic.”

There’s a moment of silence as Piper thinks about what Jemma has just said. When she finally answers, her voice is wobbly.

“She’s my sister. I can’t just cut her out of my life.”

Jemma wants to tell her that she’s wrong; that she has a right to live without her sister constantly wearing her down, but she knows that it’s not what Piper wants, nor needs, to hear.

So, instead of saying anything, Jemma pulls Piper back in for another hug just as Piper begins crying again. They stay together for a long while, eventually ending up laying down on Jemma’s bed, both underneath the weighted blanket.

Piper eventually stops crying again, having cried herself out, and simply rests her head on Jemma’s shoulder. Jemma runs her fingers through Piper’s short hair in comfort. Suddenly, she begins to recite some of her favourite words.

“Today you are you,” Jemma murmurs. “That is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you.”

“That’s Dr Seuss,” Piper murmurs back. Jemma nods.

“I like to say that particular one to myself when I’m feeling like this,” Jemma whispers. “It’s cliche, I know, but it makes me feel a bit happier to just be me.”

“It’s not making me feel any better,” Piper answers, her voice as soft as Jemma’s.

“It can take a little while to work, sometimes.”

“It’s a magic spell now?” Piper teases with a ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Shh, Piper,” Jemma banters back. “You’ll blow my cover.”

She gets the tiniest of giggles out of Piper, before her smile fades and she resumes being melancholy. Jemma goes back to stroking her hair, until there’s a knock on the bedroom door.

“Come in,” Jemma invites, not looking away from Piper until the door opens and Daisy pokes her head in. Daisy takes one look at the situation and smiles softly.

“Guess cookies are finished just in time, huh?” she says lightheartedly. Jemma smiles back.

“Yeah, I think so,” she agrees, gently pulling Piper up. “Come on, Piper. Cookies. You can stay here as long as you need.”

Piper nods, and keeps her head down as the three make their way to the kitchen. Jemma sees Daisy notice, but is grateful that she doesn’t say anything. Piper would probably be very embarrassed.

The three sit down at the table and all take a cookie.They’re chocolate chip, and they’re still warm and Jemma can’t help but moan a little. Warm chocolate chip cookies are Jemma’s favourite.

“So,” Daisy says, swallowing her first bite. “Who do I have to fight?”

“Daisy!” Jemma reprimands. “There will be _no_ fighting!”

“It’s okay, “Piper interjects, still not looking up. “It’s just my sister. It’s fine.”

Daisy opens her mouth to protest, but a pointed look from Jemma has Daisy putting more cookie in her mouth instead of saying anything.

Although, she did share Daisy’s sentiment. It was anything _but_ fine. But, right now was not the time to try and make it right. Now was the time to eat chocolate chip cookies.

So, that’s what they did.

**Author's Note:**

> A fair bit of the conversation between Jemma and Piper was taken from [this post](http://buckysbears.tumblr.com/post/166538405429/when-a-neurotypical-gets-so-upset-with-you-that), and has been used with permission from the creator.


End file.
